Kenzie nodded at the doctor. “It does.”
Emma glanced at the house before meeting Kenzie’s curious stare. “He’s changed, and we don’t have a clue what to do for him. If you have a plan, I’m all for it.”
“Can he walk at all?” Kenzie asked as she slipped the key into her jeans pocket and cracked her knuckles.
“A little. He’s anxious, but he can do it. Just doesn’t like us to watch him practice.” Reagan considered Kenzie, seeming to weigh her next words. “He doesn’t ever leave the house.”
“I’m sure he’s worried about how he’ll be treated by the ranch hands. He’s worked with them a long time?” Kenzie asked.
“Yeah.” Reagan watched as one of those very hands rode a horse in close to the barn at a lazy trot, calling out a welcome to someone mending fence. “He’s known them for years. Why?”
“He won’t want them to think less of him.” She shrugged under the weight of the women’s curious stares. “It’s pretty normal, really.” Kenzie flushed when Reagan shot a quick glance at Emma, the look on her face asking how a rodeo-circuit cowgirl would know what was “normal” for a person recovering from an injury. She fought not to hunch her shoulders. “I majored in psychology. Graduated magna cum laude.”
Reagan’s entire assessment changed, her stance relaxing and her shoulders dropping some. “Very good to know. And everything you said is true. We’ve been coddling him a little too much.”
Kenzie watched the goings-on around them for a minute before pulling the key out of her pocket and returning it to Reagan. “He’ll feel safest with his brothers. Have them bring him down tomorrow after breakfast. If he protests, pick up his damn chair and carry him to the barn. Just make sure the area’s clear.” She closed her eyes for a brief moment and listened to Gizmo’s second bugle. “I’m going to do what I can to ensure the horse is up for the visit.”
She dug her truck keys out of her pocket.
“Where are you going?” Reagan asked, clearly confused.
“I need to get my own mare home and make plans to be back tomorrow for Gizmo’s first physical therapy session.”
Reagan shook her head, reaching behind her to begin braiding her hair into a French braid as she spoke. “It’ll be easier if you just stay.”
No. Oh, no. I’mnotgetting roped into being the one to deal with the injured cowboy because these folks aren’t willing to. No, no, no.
But when Kenzie started into the—first—hundred reasons that came to mind as to why she couldn’t...shouldn’t...wouldn’tstay, Emma stepped in. “Truly. There’s a one-bedroom cabin vacant. It’s nearest the barn and set up as a honeymoon suite. No one’s renting it at the moment, so you’re free to use the space. And your mare can stay here. I’m sure the barn will be okay for her.” At Reagan’s wheezed laughter, Emma’s gaze snapped between them. “What? What did I say?”
The slightly shorter woman shook her head, swinging the tail of her braid. “The Malone barn is nicer than our house, Emma. Nicer, even, than the house you and Cade are building.”
“I don’t know about that,” Kenzie objected, but once again, her input was overrun with the doctor’s practical assessment.
“Look, Ms. Malone—”
She held up a hand. “Kenzie, please.”
“Kenzie, then. It’s no secret you’re the sole heir to the Malone fortune. That’s all well and good. That money has undoubtedly afforded you a different life than most have led, particularly here. ‘Different’ doesn’t equal better or worse. Just...well,different.”
“You’re The Malone’s daughter?” Emma’s clear capitalization of her father’s name made Kenzie want to smile, but she refrained. Barely.
Instead, she gave a single nod. “I’m sure you and I have our differences, but I know the value of hard work. My dad has money, yes. That didn’t excuse me as a kid from chores any more than it exempted me from having to make my way through thedips, dives, turns and resentments of the male-dominated sport of cutting.” She sighed and scrubbed her hands over her face. She was so tired, and at this point just wanted to lie down.
Emma fidgeted, twisting her fingers together until she formed a fist. She paused and seemed to struggle with whether or not to speak her mind. Finally she blurted out, “Are you the one who paid Ty’s hospital bills?”
Kenzie didn’t answer. She refused to admit she’d helped the man who’d been so wretched to her only moments ago. And she was sure that she, and her motives, had been the topic of many a Covington discussion.
She wound her hair up and then absently tucked it under her ball cap, trying to buy time.
The two women opposite her shared a look, and then Emma stepped forward and hugged her. “For all you’ve done for us, for all you’ve done without any reason other than it was the compassionate thing to do, stay. Please. Give us a chance to at least repay your kindness with some of our own.”
Guilt wrapped around Kenzie’s spine like a ribbon around a maypole.
Multilayered.
Fast.
Bright.